Post Blue
by Imadra Blue
Summary: Something old, something new, something borrowed, and something blue. Unrequited slash.


**Pairing:** Anakin/Obi-Wan  
**Disclaimer:** Star Wars and all its characters are property of Lucasfilm Ltd. No copyright infringement is intended.  
**Notes:** Written for SW Mythology. Title inspired by Placebo's song of the same name.  
**Beta Reader(s):** Navia, who did most of the work and did an excellent job smacking my bitch up, and Luthe, who helped with the rest. Many thanks, ladies!

_"Attachment is forbidden," Anakin began, his voice dispassionate, as if he was reciting. "Possession is forbidden. Compassion, which I would define as unconditional love, is central to a Jedi's life, so you might say we're encouraged to love."_  
– Excerpt from Chapter 12 of the novelization of _Attack of the Clones_ by R.A. Salvatore

...

At age ten, the concept of not owning anything offended something basic inside Anakin Skywalker. Perhaps it was that he'd spent the first nine years of his life as a possession. The few things he had been able to call his own had been all the good things in life – his mother, his pod racer, his protocol droid. He didn't understand not having possession any more than he understood how a person could go through life without love.

"Possession is forbidden," his Master, Obi-Wan Kenobi, told him when he asked for a toy on display in a Coruscant store.

"But why?" Anakin asked. "We do own things. We own our lightsabers and our clothes and our –"

"We own none of these things, my young Padawan. We are allowed the use of them, and while they are assigned to us, they do not truly belong to us."

"That's rancorshit."

"Watch your mouth," Obi-Wan snapped. "It's the truth."

"If that's the truth, then whose Padawan am I?"

Obi-Wan only yanked on his hand in answer, leading him down the street to Dex's Diner for lunch. Anakin was not allowed the sweetmilk he asked for. Since he'd been allowed one last time, he assumed it was a punishment. Alternatively, Obi-Wan could simply be a jerk for no reason. Anakin found it hard to tell the difference sometimes.

When Obi-Wan guided Anakin into the air taxi that would take them back to the Temple, Anakin felt a pulse of frustration and loss in his new Master's touch. Every time he brushed up against Obi-Wan on the ride home, he got the same feeling. Eventually the frustration faded, and Obi-Wan's mood seemed to improve as he went through their evening meditations.

Anakin ran his fingers over Obi-Wan's bare arm as he meditated, feeling the calm and serenity of the Force washing over him, though it was Obi-Wan who channeled it. Obi-Wan's eyes flew open, his brow furrowing. Anakin withdrew his hand, and the feeling ended as abruptly as if switched off.

Though Anakin never knew why, Obi-Wan was the only person whose feelings he could sense by a simple touch.

...

When Anakin was twelve, he decided attachment meant love, and love was something he refused to live without. He loved his mother, and she loved him. Just because he'd had to give up a life with her didn't mean he had to give up everything else.

"Trying to get in contact with my mother is _not_ breaking the Code!"

Obi-Wan sat calmly on his favorite chair. It was little more than a plush block with faded blue material stretched across thick padding. He never let Anakin sit in it. Anakin hated it.

"Then what, exactly," asked Obi-Wan, never looking up from the datapad in his hands, "would you call it?"

"Normal? She's my mother. I just want to tell her how I'm doing. That's all."

"You're training to be a Jedi. She already knows how you're doing."

"Well, I want to know how she's doing, too." It was very hard to remain reasonable, but Anakin tried his best. "Don't you ever wonder about _your_ mother?"

"I've never spoken to my mother. I came to the Temple as a baby. The Jedi are my family now, and I don't need any other."

And that was that. In less than a minute, Obi-Wan had said everything he needed to. _You're not like a Jedi should be. You have a weakness. You don't belong here._

"Well, I'm sorry _your_ mother didn't love you enough to keep you."

Obi-Wan said nothing. The only sound in the sunlit common room of the Temple apartment was the clicking of the button used to flip screens on the datapad. Anakin studied Obi-Wan's face, looking for any sign of a reaction; only a slight furrow in Obi-Wan's brow indicated any displeasure. Obi-Wan always did this when Anakin pushed too far – he froze up, as if to barricade Anakin from his emotions. Anakin would get to him one day, if it was the last thing he did.

"I want to comm my mother," Anakin repeated. "At least she cares about me."

"Then maybe you should have stayed with her."

Obi-Wan's words seemed to flip a switch inside of Anakin. His anger exploded out of him, and before he could stop it, a sweep of Force power sent a delicate flower vase towards Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan's eyes widened, and he moved to the side just as the vase crashed into the wall behind him. The glass made a satisfying sound as it shattered, and a fragment flew into Obi-Wan's forehead. He cried out in pain, reaching up to touch the cut. He stood up and tossed his datapad to the floor.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" Anakin cried instinctively. He'd actually managed to hurt _Obi-Wan_. That was something he hadn't expected.

Obi-Wan took a step towards him, eyes flashing.

Anakin balled up his fists in defense. He waited for Obi-Wan to hit him or yell at him or do _something_. He expected it would hurt. Watto had been fat and lazy, and the snap of his pointing stick had still stung on Anakin's legs. Obi-Wan was much bigger and much stronger than Watto.

Nothing happened.

Obi-Wan stared at Anakin with a look that could have withered a strungarian bloomer. He wiped the blood off his forehead and stared down at his stained fingers.

"I'm sorry," Anakin whispered. This time, he meant it. He'd never meant to make Obi-Wan bleed.

Obi-Wan went back to wiping his face. Terrified of both estranging the closest thing he had to a father and being kicked out of the Jedi Order, Anakin moved closer. He saw Obi-Wan's shoulders tense.

Desperate to know what Obi-Wan was feeling, Anakin grabbed his arm. Obi-Wan froze and looked down at him. Thin rivulets of blood spidered across Obi-Wan's face, catching in the stubble of the beard he was trying to grow in. His eyes were bright despite the murky combination of blue and gray.

A pulse of hurt and anger under Obi-Wan's skin broke the spell. He shook Anakin off of him and glanced back at the broken glass. "Clean up the mess," he said, turning to leave.

"I'm sorry," Anakin repeated.

Obi-Wan walked out of the room without saying anything more.

...

By the time Anakin had turned fifteen, both he and Obi-Wan had refined their arguments over the Jedi Code. It became almost a game – one Anakin consistently lost.

"This is your life, Anakin. It's part of you." Obi-Wan jerked back his hand as soon as Anakin reached for his lightsaber. "Don't lose it again."

"I'm sorry, Master. I won't do it again. I just wasn't –"

"– paying attention. You never are."

"I was _trying_. But then that gundark leapt out and I –"

"Stop trying things, and simply do them."

"I thought only Sith dealt in absolutes?"

"Only an idiot would be incapable of noting the difference between an absolute and a teaching tool."

"So, you're a Sith and I'm an idiot?" Anakin grinned.

Obi-Wan did not return the smile. "Only one of those is accurate. I'd tell you to guess which one, but idiots lack deductive reasoning." He handed Anakin back his lightsaber and climbed into a waiting speeder.

Stung, Anakin flung himself against the backseat of the speeder. The droid driving the speeder started the engine and sped off towards the spaceport. As they raced through the jungles of Makram, Anakin watched the trees they passed. The wind carried the fresh, blue-green scent of foliage. There was something soothing about being around so many living things.

After a while, Anakin grew bored with watching scenery. He turned back to Obi-Wan, wondering if his mentor was still cross with him. The waning sunlight caught Obi-Wan's hair, making it seem redder than usual, and the wind whipped it around his face. He did not look at Anakin; he simply stared straight ahead with his arms crossed. Anakin studied him, wondering what it was that made Obi-Wan so fascinating.

Obi-Wan was a handsome man. It wasn't the sort of handsome that walked around downlevel nightclubs in fancy clothing or the sort of polished handsome that spoke in the Senate. It was a solid handsome, real and imperfect, but still mesmerizing. Yet, there was more to it than that. Something under the skin.

Anakin leaned over and rested his head on Obi-Wan's shoulder. He could sense Obi-Wan's tension and an undercurrent of wariness humming in him. It was an almost useless gesture of affection for someone Anakin's age, but it was one of the few ways Obi-Wan let him get close.

"Thank you for finding my lightsaber, Master."

Obi-Wan took a moment to respond. "You're welcome."

"Do you really think I'm an idiot?"

"Do you really think I'm a Sith?"

"Well, there was that one time you didn't let me eat dinner and –" Anakin cut himself off when he felt a flash of irritation within Obi-Wan. Anakin smiled. "No."

"Then you have your answer."

Anakin pretended to doze so he could remain where he was, with his head on Obi-Wan's shoulder. Over the years, Obi-Wan became more and more guarded around him, but somehow, when they touched, Obi-Wan couldn't hide as much from him. Obi-Wan was not fond of being touched, so Anakin was forced to make up pretenses. This time, however, Obi-Wan didn't shrug him off until his hand slipped from Obi-Wan's arm to his chest.

Though he couldn't be sure, Anakin thought he'd felt a tiny thread of desire flare within Obi-Wan before they broke contact.

...

During Anakin's sixteenth year, he'd learned the art of picking his battles. The arguments between Obi-Wan and him tapered off into a sort of truce. There were some things that they inevitably agreed on, times spent laughing over some inside joke. Almost every waking moment Anakin had, he spent in Obi-Wan's company. Obi-Wan was part of Anakin in the way that all family was. Even when he was driving Anakin mad with his rules and his lectures, Anakin felt comfortable. Though he called Obi-Wan his "Master," Obi-Wan had never once raised a hand to him outside of sparring, had never hurt him as "Masters" on Tatooine were wont to do.

Anakin spent most of the trip to the Noranian citadel huddled in a corner while he looked up the most recent pictures of Padmé. She was a Senator now and just as beautiful as she appeared in Anakin's dreams. Ever since Palpatine had died, the Senate had been half in chaos, and she was one of the few voices of reason. He captured a picture of her in an ornate violet gown arguing against Count Dooku and saved it to his datapad.

The prickling sensation of being watched snapped him out of his reverie. Obi-Wan sat across the small room they'd been given with his legs stretched out and his arms crossed inside his robes. There was no room for that, and his legs almost touched Anakin's.

"What are you doing?" asked Obi-Wan. He spoke in that lazy tone he always used when he seemed to already know the answer.

Anakin didn't meet Obi-Wan's eyes. "Just… looking up pictures on the HoloNet."

"Of Senator Amidala."

There was no fooling Obi-Wan. Anakin sighed and stared down at his datapad. He braced himself for the inevitable lecture about attachment, but Obi-Wan said nothing further. When Anakin looked up, Obi-Wan's eyes were closed. He leaned against the metal, seemingly oblivious to the bumping and rocking of their _ratha_-class transport.

Anakin set the datapad on the padded floor and stretched out his legs next to Obi-Wan's. Their legs were only separated by the cloth of their trousers, but it was enough to get a sense of Obi-Wan. Anakin heard people often call Obi-Wan "retiring," but Anakin knew better. Underneath Obi-Wan's surface dwelled emotions of an intensity Anakin rarely sensed in others. Obi-Wan just hid them, swallowed them, pretended they weren't there.

"Don't you ever get tired of this, Master?" Anakin bumped his leg against Obi-Wan until he stirred.

Obi-Wan's eyes looked like smoke when they were only half open. "Of what?"

"This. All this going back and forth, stamping out this fire or that fire. Negotiating treaties, fighting people who can't be reasoned with, investigating political matters. Do you like it?"

"Not really. It doesn't matter, though. It's my duty."

Anakin slid his leg along Obi-Wan's, careful not to accidentally hurt him with his boot. Obi-Wan didn't react; he never did – at least not physically. The tiny thread of desire Anakin knew was for him always appeared when he touched Obi-Wan for too long. This time was no different.

"What about all the rules? Like about possession and attachment." Anakin held up a hand before Obi-Wan could say anything. "I mean, hypothetically. What do you think of them personally? Not as a Jedi?"

Obi-Wan stroked his beard for a long moment before answering. "I suppose I agree with Qui-Gon. In a hypothetical, personal sense."

"What did he think of them, then?"

"He thought the standard interpretation was too narrow – an ideal, rather than a reality. He thought it unfair to impose perfection on imperfect beings. He often argued that all one needed was the ability to listen to the Force and never let things like possession and attachment deafen you to it. A Jedi's duty should still supersede all."

Anakin stared at Obi-Wan. "And you actually agree with that?"

"To an extent. In a hypothetical, personal sense."

"Oh."

"You sound surprised."

"Well, you're just…" Anakin searched for words. "… you're so obsessed with the rules."

"One doesn't have to fully agree with the rules to abide by them." Obi-Wan pulled his leg away from Anakin's, as if to make a point. "The Jedi Code is an ideal. I would like to live my life as close to the ideal as possible. Don't you?"

Anakin glanced at the datapad, still showing Padmé's beautiful face, captured in a moment of heated argument. He glanced at Obi-Wan's handsome face, as cool and impassive as the metal wall he leaned against. He thought of his mother's careworn face, of how she had smiled at Anakin before she left. He even thought of Qui-Gon's broad face, full of a wisdom that Anakin had yet to see in another being.

"Yes," Anakin lied.

...

Though it was Anakin's eighteenth birthday, he decided to give Obi-Wan something to express how he felt. He'd kept his feelings hidden for many years now, but he was a man in every way that counted. Obi-Wan had to recognize that.

It was really just a pebble, but it looked like so much more. It looked like smoke trapped inside a crystal sphere, but glowed a soft blue when held. Anakin had found it lying in the corner of a cave. It had made him think of Obi-Wan, of his bright eyes that would change from gray to blue with his moods.

A furrow appeared between Obi-Wan's brows when Anakin presented it to him. His lips became a thin line, the expression not hidden by his beard. He crossed his arms, slipping his hands inside his tunic sleeves, and continued to stare at the stone, rather than Anakin.

"It's a gift," Obi-Wan said, his tone flat.

Anakin thrust the stone closer to Obi-Wan's face, his stomach twisting with anxiety. Obi-Wan had to take this – he had to. He had to see how important it was to Anakin that he take it. It meant everything between them. It would forge an unbreakable bond, an unspoken connection.

"I know," Anakin whispered. "I thought you would like it."

Obi-Wan's hands covered Anakin's, folding his fingers back over the stone. The warm sensation of Obi-Wan's callused fingers sliding over his made him shudder in delight. He could only barely feel Obi-Wan's emotions, as if they were hidden behind a blast door. Obi-Wan so rarely touched him anymore; it was if he knew that Anakin could see through him when they were close.

"I appreciate the sentiment, Anakin, I really do," said Obi-Wan, lifting his face up. Locks of auburn hair parted as he finally looked into Anakin's eyes. His tongue darted out, swiping over his bottom lip. Anakin stared at his mouth.

Then he suddenly got a flash of Obi-Wan's emotions - longing, passion, loss, and even resentment. Anakin could feel the threads of desire, but they were gnarled and knotted. He suddenly realized that Obi-Wan was afraid of _him_. Afraid of that connection, that bond that would make them two halves of the same whole. Afraid of those threads of desire being woven into cloth.

Anakin leaned forward to kiss him, wondering if the press of his lips to Obi-Wan's would dispel that fear, but Obi-Wan leaned back. He pushed Anakin's hand back towards him, leaving the stone trapped in Anakin's fingers.

"I cannot accept your gift, Anakin, even though I would like to." Obi-Wan sounded slightly out of breath, and as he spoke, he stared at Anakin's throat, his face full of emotion contained only by the thinnest veneer of control. "It is a possession, a symbol of attachment. A Jedi Knight can have neither."

Anakin was stung. "I thought you agreed with Qui-Gon," he said in a dull tone, defeat already seeping in.

Obi-Wan smiled, casting his eyes down with what seemed to be sorrow. "I do," he whispered. "But I choose to live my life by the ideal of the Jedi Code. I may not be perfect, and I may not be able to live up to it, but when given a choice, I will choose what I feel is right."

"It's just a _rock_."

"I have given you all I can give, and taken from you all I can take."

Anakin looked to the side, his face burning in shame. He wanted to say something, anything, to change Obi-Wan's mind, but all that escaped his lips was a sigh. In one single sentence, Obi-Wan had defeated him as surely as if he'd taken the high ground in a duel. It was a power he'd had when Anakin had been a boy, and one he still retained.

Obi-Wan released Anakin's hand, stepping back. "Good night, Anakin."

"Good night," Anakin managed to choke out before walking out of the room.

Inside, he felt his heart clench and his stomach twist. He'd hoped to grow closer to Obi-Wan, but instead, he'd driven them farther apart. There would always be a distance between them from now, standing on opposite ends of a chasm built from the Jedi Code.

Attachment was forbidden. Possession was forbidden. Only the unconditional love of compassion was encouraged. Anakin wanted more.

But Obi-Wan was not the person who would give it to him.

_End._


End file.
